


Together

by morticrows



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Robot/Human Relationships, Smoking, Star Gazing, War, a female sosu would work here, but this was made with the male sosu in mind, hand holding, if you headcanon yours as having served in the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 09:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20864207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morticrows/pseuds/morticrows
Summary: Nick and the Sole Survivor just... Get each other, y'know?





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> just trying to get in the groove of actually completing fanfics, so apologizes if this is a little lackluster. its more practice than anything haha

Friend or foe, you've learned to mourn for their death all the same. The military had trained you to kill without remorse; just you and your enemy in the macabre dance of life or death. Nothing more than a target, one less gun pointed in your direction. But they were soldiers, just like you. They, presumably, had a family. Parents, maybe a partner, or a child, maybe even many children. Someone would miss this person. So while you did what you had to do, you learned to mourn these people you had never met. It was hard to balance out, at first. The line between mourning and guilt is a fine one, and the two concepts are often tightly interlaced. But you learned. It was life or death, after all. Someone would get dealt the bad card, and you fought to make sure it wouldn't be you. But at the end of the day, you'd always think back to those people, and you hoped that there was an afterlife, a pleasant one, if only so these people would find comfort there that they hadn't on the harsh battle field. You hope that their families grieve quickly, and are able to move on again, thinking of all the good times instead of the could-have-beens. You didn't want to loose your empathy, and maybe it did end up hurting you, but at least you kept more of the soul in you than the dead-eyed snipers you had talked to on a daily basis.

It was harder, though, you learned when the person your sights were set on harmed who you loved, and stole your young infant child. Kellogg, you found, was a much harder man to keep these sentiments towards. Every fiber of your being wanted to rip him limb from limb; a terrifying kind of wrath you'd never hosted before then. He himself hadn't helped his case, taunting and cocky, you were sure he thought he was invincible. Every word that dropped out of his mouth added another feral hound to the pack of wild dogs that was your anger, howling and ripping at you with no remorse. It took all the willpower in your body to stop yourself from shooting him the second you got a clear sight of his head. You needed to find your son, and so you talked to him. You found out practically nothing, which infuriated you more. The coward even used a stealth boy in combat, but what he didn't know was that you had dealt with more than a few soldiers wearing Chinese stealth armor in snow storms back during Anchorage, so his attempt at stealth was very much in vain. And when you struck your last blow on the man, you didn't mourn like you had once promised yourself you would always do. And it sat heavy with you. It wrung so noticeably hollow, that that feeling stuck with you. Trailed you like an abandoned dog, looking for a home.

After viewing his memories, you were able to bring yourself to mourn, at least a little, for him. He was a reprehensible man, _that_ still stood, but seeing his life made you feel just enough for the man that you hoped he at least found a kind of peace he didn't have in life, in death.

Another problem, would be getting to Brian Virgil. The glowing sea didn't seem like a nice place, especially not to a pre-war body like yours, being ill-adjusted to taking rads even in day-to-day life scenarios. So that put your plans on hold.

A lot of things happened, between then and now.

With Nick by your side the whole way, you became pretty close. You helped him track down Eddie Winter, and you grieved your own losses together. His was an older wounder, and you came to know that he didn't feel it was right for him to still be in mourning after all the time, especially, as he puts it, when it wasn't really even "him" in the first place. You told him that everyone grieves in different ways, for different people. He was still doing good work, and he wasn't letting this keep him stationary, so it was absolutely ok to still get sad about it sometimes. And even if he couldn't accept old Nick as still being this Nick, he still had his memories regardless, so of course he would mourn.

After then, the two of you had really started hitting it off. There was a kind of mutual understanding between the two of you. You both solved a fair amount of cases together, working together almost like clockwork. Where one would falter, the other would move in. Two minds really _do_ work better than one, you suppose.

You remember this one brisk night the two of you shared together. You were both staying in some old, abandoned wooden shack that night. It was rather small, but it had a some rickety stairs leading up onto the flat roof. Nick had gone up to smoke, and after a little bit, you had followed lead. The sky was uncharacteristically beautiful that night, compared to how it usually looked these days. Or, you guess, this... century, now. Nick was sitting on the roof's overhang, legs dangling off, with a cigarette in his non-skeletal hand. You softly walked over and sat down beside him. His bright, LED eyes flickered over to you for a moment, but then you suppose he chose not to say anything, going back to staring vaguely at the sky, and taking the occasional drag of his cigarette. The two of you sat like that, for a long while. You hadn't been particularly tired in the first place, so dreariness still wasn't quite wearing on you. It was comfortable, peaceful, in a way the commonwealth rarely ever provided. And you ended up slipping your hand into his skeletal one. He had went rigid for a brief moment, and it had you wondering if you fucked up the moment, but then he relaxes again, and hold your hand. It really wasn't all that big a gesture, but it gave you a pleasant buzz. Neither of you looked at the other for the rest of the time you two were up there, but that was a-ok in your book. It was still a nice night, and even if Nick's metal hand was Very, Very Cold, you were still ecstatic to be holding it.

When the two of you got up to go back downstairs, you both still held each other's hand the whole way down.

Sure, the two of you never quite said out loud what you were, but that was ok with you. Hand holding turned to shoulder leaning, turned to pecks on the cheek and shy kisses, turned to little dates and outings you'd go on together during your days off. It was slow going, but sometimes, that's just what people need. And even if you knew neither of you were quite ready to say it yet, you knew you loved him, and he loved you too. You were both there for each other, and you both understood each other in ways likely no one else could replicate.

Not many things are certain in the commonwealth, but you don't think either of you will be alone again for a long time yet.


End file.
